


Pull-ups

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [62]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fanservice, Gen, Gen Work, M/M, chin-ups, pull-ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10295594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: A random instance during the Blight where Zevran sees Theron exercising.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, kindly ignore my four month's absence. Have some blatant fanservice I wrote over a year ago.  
> I have a new [writing blog](https://whatthefenriis.tumblr.com/) up: as well as a [ko-fi page/button](https://ko-fi.com/A447GW5). Maybe consider following or otherwise supporting me in my future endeavours? You don't have to, though.

“Theron?” Zevran called as he ambled through the trees around camp, wondering where the Dalish elf had wandered off to this time. There was no sign of him for several minutes, but then a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made Zevran look over just as he was about to call out again. He stopped walking and smiled in appreciation as he found what he was looking for.

Theron had chosen to remove the top half of his armour, leaving his dark arms and torso wonderfully bare. The discarded armour was piled neatly amongst the roots of a tree along with his weaponry, while Theron himself was gripping at a branch high enough up another tree that there was about a foot of empty air between his booted feet and the ground. And he was doing pull-ups.

Zevran’s smile widened into a salacious grin as he watched the slow up and down motions of Theron’s body, the way his already defined stomach tensed as he pulled himself up, the rhythmic bunch and release of his biceps. His body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his eyes were firmly closed in concentration. Each breath out was sharply audible even from where Zevran stood a stone's throw away.

Zevran kept one eye on Theron as he began to move quietly - not towards the ranger, but around him in a wide circle until he could see his exposed back and admire the hypnotically shifting musculature there without disturbing his quarry. And, really, the fact Theron was still wearing some of his leathers - tantalising skirt and all - only helped to emphasise the toned sleekness to his legs and behind.

Theron was truly in peak physical condition, and doing his torso-baring exercises away from camp was certainly done to unfairly hide it. Or perhaps to stop the others from feeling jealous; Zevran felt a faint twinge of envy as he eyed those excellent biceps again. He continued to watch openly, listening to Theron’s steady pants of exertion he was starting to become familiar with from a certain other strenuous activity they did together every so often. Satinalia had come early this year.

Zevran stood there silently for what felt like the rest of the day but eventually Theron slowed down, his arms beginning to tremble with the strain, and then he abruptly loosened his grip and fell silently to the forest floor. Zevran couldn’t help making a noise of disappointment and Theron pivoted on one heel to face his audience, one hand instinctively reaching in the direction of his bow until he realised it was Zevran.

“Finished so soon?” Zevran pouted as he stepped closer at last, not bothering to hide just how often his gaze swept over Theron’s bare and sweat-damp front, caught somewhere between admiration, lust and envy.

“You were watching me?” The other elf countered with one thin black eyebrow raised as he stretched and rolled the stiffness out of his wrists before crossing his arms over his bare chest. Zevran stared pointedly at his biceps in way of answer. Theron’s broader shoulders lifted and fell in a sigh.

“Can you blame me?” Zevran frowned in disappointment as Theron reached for his undershirt and pulled it on, thoroughly ruining the excellent view. “You certainly have a form to be admired. Envied, even. Those arms of yours are stunning.” He glanced downwards briefly. “Legs too, along with everything in between.”

“I’m an archer.” Theron shrugged as he pulled his braids free of his shirt. “It’s a given.”

Zevran bit back a lewd comment of something else that could be given that night as Theron pulled on the top half of his armour.

“And yet you hide it so,” He lamented as he watched belts fasten under deft fingers. “How cruel of you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Theron answered dryly as he recovered his pack and fastened it into place around his waist.

“I shall simply have to watch you exercise more often from now on.” Zevran mused teasingly. He was relieved when Theron snorted in amusement rather than take offence.

“So long as you don’t try and distract me - Creators know how _you_ might do such a thing - you can watch, I suppose.” The ranger agreed as he shouldered his bow and quiver, and Zevran grinned in victory as he fell into step beside Theron for the walk back to camp.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit or plain old comments on this or any of my other stuff much appreciated.  
> Not dead, just very stressed.


End file.
